Page 58 of Debtor’s Daughter

“It’s mine,” spoke a gruff voice with a pleasantly rough edge that spoke of a man who was not of the upper classes.

As one, they turned and regarded the man who was tall and massively broad-shouldered. He had the look of an ex-boxer, with a broken nose and hard features, steel grey hair and shrewd blue eyes. He looked from one to the other of them as he spoke. “I assume you are here to collect the reward? Well, I tell you now, I shan’t pay over a penny until I find Miss Merri—” He broke off, frozen on the bottom step of the stairs as he gazed at Aunt Connie in disbelief. “Can it be?” he said in wonder. “Connie?”

“Cecil!” Aunt Connie shrieked in astonishment and promptly fainted with all the elegance of a dying swan, skirts and petticoats fluttering as she fell upon the polished marble floor.

“Connie!” The man ran with surprising speed, falling to his knees beside their aunt, before anyone could gather their wits and do likewise. With the reverence of a man touching a goddess for the first time, he lifted her into his heavy arms and, with astonishing ease, carried her into the drawing room, the seams on his beautifully tailored coat looking close to splitting as his muscles bulged.

“Cheevers, smelling salts at once, and bring the brandy,” he ordered.

The force of his order had a galvanising effect on the high-handed butler, who abandoned his snooty demeanour and practically ran to do his bidding.

Too astonished to do otherwise, Maggie, Caro, and Mr Weston hurried after the man whom Aunt Connie had identified as her long-lost love.

“I didn’t think he was even real!” Caro squeaked, so overcome she clutched at Maggie’s hand like a child. “I thought she’d made the entire thing up!”

“I’m afraid we all did, love,” Maggie said, as stunned as her sister by the turn of events. “And I’m rather afraid that’s Papa’s fault, for he insisted it wasn’t true whenever I asked about the man.”

Too overwhelmed to ask the man questions, and feeling it was for Connie to do so, Maggie hushed any further speculation on Caro’s part and hurried to see to their aunt.

“Oh,” Connie moaned from her recumbent position on a beautifully upholstered chaise longue. Her green eyes seemed hazy as she blinked, her gaze settling upon Maggie. “Oh, Maggie. I had the most peculiar dream,” she said and then looked around her, realising she was not at home.

Maggie hurried to sit beside her as Connie sat bolt upright, the colour draining from her face.

“Easy now, darling. You’ve had a dreadful shock,” she said, gratefully accepting the smelling salts from Cheevers, who immediately set about pouring a glass of brandy.

“We’ll all have one of those, and none of your stingy measures, you old grubworm, fill ’em up,” ordered his employer.

“Yes, sir,” Cheevers said, looking faintly alarmed and doubling the amount he’d already poured.

Maggie held Connie tightly as she stared at the man issuing commands and filling the room with his magnetic presence.

“Cecil?” Connie said again, clearly unable to believe it was possible.

“In the flesh, my darling,” he said ruefully. “And you are as beautiful as the last time I saw you. I swear you’ve not aged a day.”

“B-But you’re dead,” Connie said in confusion.

The man’s face darkened. “I’ve always wondered what your blackguard of a father told you about me. It killed me wondering if you despised me all these years for abandoning you.”

“Oh, no,” Connie said, her expression softening as she gazed up at the man’s stern features. “I never doubted you for a moment, Cecil, I felt certain the only thing that would keep you from me was death.”

There was a taut silence as Connie considered her own words. Sitting up straighter, she glared at her beloved. “Which rather begs the question of where on earth you’ve been all this time?”

“There’s my girl,” he said, grinning appreciatively and looking a little sheepish. “Well, it’s a long story, Connie, my sweet, but if you’re willing to hear it, I’m about bursting to tell you.”

“Perhaps we might order some tea and sit down and discuss matters,” Maggie suggested, taking the glass of brandy Cheevers had distractedly placed in Caro’s hand and giving it back to him.

“Tea!” Cecil clapped a hand to his head. “Please excuse my manners. I’m afraid I’m unused to such fine company. Cheevers, tea for the ladies, and cake too. Make sure there’s ginger cake, mind.”

Connie glanced at Maggie, putting her hand to her heart as if it were trying to escape her chest. Maggie, knowing well that ginger cake was Connie’s favourite thing in the entire world, understood at once. He had remembered.

Tea was promptly supplied, alongside the most comprehensive and lavish display of cakes, biscuits, sticky buns and éclairs that any of them had ever seen. Whoever this Cecil really was, he did not do things by halves.

Once Maggie had served tea, with Cecil preferring to stick to brandy, everyone looked at him expectantly.

“Well,” he said, his rough-hewn, though not unappealing, countenance gaining a ruddy hue at their attention. “I’ve waited and prayed for this moment for so long, I hardly know where to begin.”

“At the beginning,” Maggie suggested, aggrieved on her aunt’s behalf that the man was not dead but had stayed away for so long. He’d better have an excellent story to tell, or she’d have a few words for the wretch that he would not soon forget.